Diving in the deep end...
Winter Park Mountain Retreat 2024
It started like most wild stories do with someone asking me, “Can you help with this?” and me saying "absolutely!" before realizing what “this” really was.
I was invited to join the architect and GC on a 7,000-square-foot new build in Winter Park, Colorado. A second home turned short-term rental with mountain views that make you melty. It was the kind of project people spend decades preparing for. I, however, cannonballed straight in. No life vest, just pure passion and intuition. I do have a master's degree in winging it so, I went all in.
And if you know interiors, you’ll understand why I still think I deserve a trophy or a really big cookie for what came next...
furnishing a 7,000-square-foot home with an elevator, mind you on a $50,000 budget. That’s not a typo. That’s what we call design Tetris. Every piece of furniture, every curtain panel, every dish and mug had to make sense. I became a master of both sourcing and sorcery. Add that to my resume... ya girl is a dang sorceress.
The client didn’t want a “Colorado mountain home” in the typical sense. No bulky log furniture, no gigantic moose antlers, and no heavy rustic palettes. She wanted the opposite. Something clean, elevated, and Scandinavian. She wanted natural light to fill the home and the perfect amount of negative space. She was after simplicity. This is why she sought me out. Throughout the years of her knowing me she gathered the sense that I could bring that to life for her.
I learned to think like both architect and contractor. I sat in on builder calls, debated window placements, tracked elevations, created finish schedules, and managed what felt like 400 tabs open in my brain at once. I made design decks, FF&E spreadsheets, and spec lists that looked suspiciously like what I’d later study in school. Only this time, the classroom was a construction site.
Over the next two years, I did it all. It was both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. I felt like I was handed the keys to a kingdom I wasn’t entirely sure I belonged in yet. Some days I felt unstoppable and others I was convinced I’d completely blown it. But through every high and low, something deeper was happening: I was remembering who I’ve always been.
For over two decades, I’d been saying I wanted to go to design school...but this project made me go. Not the school part, just yet. The becoming part. It threw me into the fire and reminded me I could stand the heat. I could believe in myself.
And if you know interiors, you’ll understand why I still think I deserve a trophy or a really big cookie for what came next...
furnishing a 7,000-square-foot home with an elevator, mind you on a $50,000 budget. That’s not a typo. That’s what we call design Tetris. Every piece of furniture, every curtain panel, every dish and mug had to make sense. I became a master of both sourcing and sorcery. Add that to my resume... ya girl is a dang sorceress.
By the end of this massive project, I had created something I was proud of. A home that felt considered, inviting, and whole. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that project was the turning point. The moment I stopped saying I want to be a designer and just started being one.
